


Witchy Workings

by blackkat



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [34]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Coitus Interruptus, Humor, M/M, No Porn, Witches, but not for lack of trying - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “What did you even do,” Obito demands, and Hashirama's glance at his face shows he has his eyes closed in frustration. Or he’s summoning that particularly obliging belladonna from the back corner of the garden—really, it’s a toss-up which.Tobirama harrumphs and crosses his arms over his chest, scowling, which likely means that it’s something rather bad. “They usefake castsfor their dinosaur skeletons.”





	Witchy Workings

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on my Tumblr: The dino-bone-cast-necro thing is Tobirama all the way. He says it to Hasirama. Hashi is greatly disturbed with his baby brother. "Tobi no! I'm pretty sure reanimating 'Dino Museum Bones' would be illegal and morally unethical. Why must you be so damn weird? Obito, Kagami, Madara, someone help me out here." (Modern Witch AU with HashiObi (who are plant witches) & TobiKaga. (Kagami who Hashi had hoped would keep a leash on Tobi...He doesn't. He just makes it worse.) Whoops. That got away from me.
> 
> It is almost porn. I am almost ashamed. :D

There is nothing, Hashirama has decided, more beautiful than Obito laughing, sprawled out on his back in the verdantly green grass, with wildflowers twined in his hair and a creeping morning glory vine curling around his arm. In the sunlight he’s exquisite, especially looking up at Hashirama like _that_ , and there’s no way Hashirama would ever be able to resist putting his hands on him. He kisses him hard, sun-hot want curling through his veins in a golden tide, and slides his hands under Obito's tank top, feeling sleek muscles and the tremble of Obito's joy.

He laughs too, in the bare moment he can bear to let go, before Obito drags him back down with a hand wound in his hair. Hashirama makes a noise that definitely isn’t protest, and it gets him a smirk in answer. Muscular legs curl over his, one sliding up to wrap around his waist, and Obito curves his back in a lithe arch underneath Hashirama’s weight.

“What do you say we give the garden a little extra power?” Obito suggests, that edge of wickedness that Hashirama secretly (or maybe not-so-secretly, given Madara's usual eye-rolling) adores clear in his face.

Hashirama smiles back at him, tightening his grip on Obito's skin just to feel the give of it, the sun-warmed firmness that’s so unbelievably smooth. He drags his fingers down a little, dipping his head to nip at Obito's full lips and then at his neck, musky with sweat and the heavy scent of growth and green that always clings to him. “Just for the sake of the plants, right?” he breathes, and ever so gently sets his teeth against the curve of Obito's throat.

Obito makes a sound like Hashirama just mouthed something much lower down, shivers hard, and goes still with a breathless, desperate noise.

 _Gods_ , the things Obito does to him. Hashirama strangles a whimper in the back of his throat and tries not to fumble as he attempts to get the button of Obito's jeans undone. Butter-soft denim slips beneath his fingertips, and there are hands in his hair again, clutching fervently as the leg around his waist goes tight, pulling him in hard. Hashirama’s cock grinds against Obito's, making both of them moan, and he finally, _finally_ gets the button undone as their mouths collide, desperate and distracted.

“Well, those fig trees _could_ use a bit of help,” Obito agrees, and groans at the feeling of callused fingertips finding sensitive skin.

One hand slides beneath the denim to find nothing but bare skin, and Hashirama _knew_ Obito wasn’t wearing anything beneath, watched him pull those jeans on a few hours ago when they finally rolled out of bed, but here and now it feels like the most erotic thing he’s ever encountered. The idea of stripping Obito naked so simply, spreading him out on the sun-warmed grass in the middle of the gorgeous, sprawling garden they’ve created together, magic twined and twisted into one the same way their bodies will be—

Far, _far_ too close by, a door slams loudly.

“ _No_ ,” Obito hisses, slamming his head back into the grass as the morning glory—several feet longer than it was a moment ago, and looking unnervingly intelligent for a _rivea corymbosa_ —slides under the branches of the nearest bush to coil itself like a watchful snake. Obito doesn’t look at it, though; when he opens his eyes, it’s to give Hashirama a glare that could probably strip paint. “I thought you said he was _occupied_ today”

“I certainly thought he was,” Hashirama says, not entirely happily. He _just_ got his hands inside Obito's pants, and they’ve been working up to this all morning, touches and glances and a wrestling match on the grass that he had _hoped_ would end in them indulging in a _fertility magic_ type of ritual. With a low groan, he drops his head on Obito's shoulder and offers plaintively, “Maybe he’ll just go away?”

The screech of the glass door leading out of the hothouse and loud, angry footsteps on the tiled path kill that dream before it can even fully form.

“Brother,” Tobirama barks, stalking into the open with an expression that may as well be a homicide attempt. “They are saying they are going to _press charges._ I have never heard something so ridiculous in my life. Deal with it.”

Hashirama whines, uncaring of the audience, and wonders if this means he has to take his hand out of Obito's pants.

“ _Brother_ ,” Tobirama repeats, in that certain tone Hashirama knows means he won't be deterred. This is Tobirama interrupted during _experimentation_ , and unfortunately for Hashirama it probably wasn’t the sexual kind. Not that he wants his little brother asking him sex questions, but _still_. Anything is probably better than _pressing charges_.

“I thought you went to the _museum_ ,” he protests plaintively. “I gave you _tickets_.”

Obito strokes his hair soothingly, which is nice, but they're both still wrapped around each other, which—while also nice—is becoming distinctly awkward.

“Er. We did?” Kagami. Well, the fact that he’s still hanging around is probably a good sign. Hashirama tips his head enough to look up, and Kagami offers a slightly sheepish wave. “I think the museum’s going to be the one doing the charging.”

Oh gods. How much trouble could Tobirama have gotten up to in a _natural history museum_? Hashirama had specifically chosen it for the _lack_ of possible disasters when he was planning to get his brother out of the house.

“Did you call Tōka,” he says, less question and more resigned sigh.

Tobirama prickles like a cactus. “I did not. She’s going to be insufferable as soon as she hears.”

Meaning she’ll laugh at him, and probably that her girlfriend will as well. Given that Mito is just about the greatest rune witch in the world and Tobirama has had a platonic crush on her brain since the moment they met, he’ll likely go to any lengths to avoid that happening.

“What did you even _do_ ,” Obito demands, and a glance at his face shows he has his eyes closed in frustration. Or he’s summoning that particularly obliging belladonna from the back corner of the garden—really, it’s a toss-up which.

Tobirama harrumphs and crosses his arms over his chest, scowling, which likely means that it’s something rather bad. “They use _fake casts_ for their dinosaur skeletons.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Please,” Hashirama says into Obito's lovely warm shoulder. “ _Please_ tell me you didn’t attempt to use a nercromantic ritual on a _dinosaur skeleton_.”

Tobirama makes a sound like Hashirama is being unreasonable. “It would have worked perfectly,” he says, as though _that_ is the part of greatest concern.

“It would have!” Kagami agrees, and his tone is nothing but bright, cheerful enthusiasm. “I’ve never seen a ritual that complex, it was _beautiful_ , okay.”

Apparently all those grand plans Hashirama had about Kagami being a restraining influence on Tobirama are going to be rather less than successful.

Hashirama glances up, meeting Obito's eyes across the space between them, and finds that even without words he is in complete agreement with his boyfriend. Obito's fingers curl firmly in his hair, silent affirmation, and Hashirama very stubbornly leans down to press a deliberate kiss to Obito's collarbone.

“Tobirama,” he says, and it’s a very rare thing for him to pull out his older brother voice, but this situation _absolutely_ warrants it. “Take your boyfriend out for coffee. Or lunch. Or lunch _and_ dinner, preferably. Call Tōka and let her laugh at you until she agrees to be your lawyer. Obito and I have a fertility ritual that is in dire need of completion.”

With a sound of complete and total offense, Tobirama opens his mouth, likely to protest the Tōka part of that order, but Obito chooses that moment to moan, loud and pointed, as he lets his head fall back again, pulling Hashirama in. Hashirama goes willingly, biting sharp kisses up his throat to feel him shudder and twitch, to see the red marks blooming against his pale skin.

“I,” Tobirama says with great dignity, raising a hand in the clear precursor to a water spell, “loathe you _both_.”

Kagami squeaks.

The morning glory lunges like a snake, hurling itself out from under the bush and slamming into Tobirama’s ankle before he can dodge. It coils around his leg, darting under his pant leg in a move very much like it’s aiming for a bite, and Tobirama goes reeling back with a yelp. For the first time Hashirama can remember since puberty, his graceful, surefooted brother misses a step, and collapses into a startled Kagami's arms with a sound very much like a wheeze.

“Um?” Kagami asks, still very squeaky, looking from Tobirama to Obito and Hashirama with wide eyes.

Obito rolls his, not even bothering to let go of Hashirama’s hair. “He was going to pick a fight with a pair of nature witches in their own garden. A mild hallucinogen is the least he deserves. Now get lost.”

Gamely, Kagami heaves Tobirama up into a fireman’s carry—Hashirama personally would have gone for a princess carry in that kind of situation, but he supposes Tobirama is taller and more gangly than Obito, who is lovely and compact—and staggers a step back towards the hothouse. “He really could have raised those dinosaurs,” he says, and his tone is _still_ full of admiration. Hashirama kind of wants to groan, and not for fun reasons. “It was impressive! If they’d still had any trace of DNA he’d have brought them back instead of that taxidermy exhibit. It was totally the best date I’ve been on. Thanks for giving him the idea!”

With a happy wave, he clumps off towards the house, Tobirama dangling like a sack of slightly twitchy rice.

“….Taxidermy exhibit,” Hashirama repeats a little weakly.

Obito curses, loud and vehement, and Hashirama really couldn’t agree more.


End file.
